


Interlude: Days Before You Came

by masterassassin, none_the_wiser



Series: Trip Switch [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Flashback, Implied unrequited spirk, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Unrequited Love, Zombie Apocalypse, alternative universe, bc it’s the end of the world, jim is sad, mentions of drug use, surviving in a post-apocalyptic world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterassassin/pseuds/masterassassin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/none_the_wiser/pseuds/none_the_wiser
Summary: Jim is sixteen and he has no other concerns but to stare into the blue sky. Somewhere up there a plane tears a cloud and drags a white stripe out of it. Jim stretches his whole body and winces in pain.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Hikaru Sulu
Series: Trip Switch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523057
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Interlude: Days Before You Came

**Author's Note:**

> As you may have already noticed (because of the tags) this is not in fact part two of the actual story but more of an interlude to give you a bit of backstory.  
> Also, as a bit of a side note for the entire story, please excuse any inaccuracies when it comes to everything that is very American. We’re a Russian and a German trying our best

“Hurry up home, buddy” Jim whispers and puts his hand down on the ground. The ant rushes down his finger. A dragonfly’s wings flinch slightly; it sits motionless on a gray stone, its thousands of eyes glisten. The land once belonged to animals, then to humans; now that there are almost none left the era of insects has come. They’re lucky that the supply of bug repellent is enough to last for a long time.

Jim and Sulu lie in the grass of a clearing in the middle of the ant kingdom, dazed by the smells of forest herbs and the chirping of cicadas. Sulu says that sunlight is very useful, it helps to produce vitamins, hormones, and a good mood. He is napping with his hands behind his head, a pleased smile on his lips, his shirt pushed up where Jim’s greedy hands were just five minutes ago; a sun twinkle trembles on his bare stomach. They should go now, Spock will be furious if they don’t, but damn it’s a lazy afternoon and Jim’s weirdly happy. So Spock can go fuck himself. Yesterday they spent half the day scattering from a herd of Dead; they deserved a day off, high and comfortably numb. Jim presses the cig butt into the ground.

He feels somewhat satisfied ‒ there’s a wonderful emptiness filling him like a big balloon, all the way from the top of his head to his toes and back. As he breathes in it bursts out, tickles under his skin, and as he breathes out his chest compresses the internal vacuum. It’s a pleasant sensation but at the same time it’s a bit frightening. Like an endless slowed down explosion. Does the sun feel the same? He can hear Spock’s cold voice in his head – it can’t, Jim, the sun does not explode and it does not burn. Explosions are impossible in space, at least as we know them, also it doesn't  _ feel _ and you’re just high. The sun is a huge piece of plasma in a thermonuclear reaction; it’s not burning, it’s glowing just like your utter stupidity, Jim. The sun is a big and warm light. 

Jim sighs. Vacuum. He turns his head and looks at his dosing friend. 

Sulu has a scar on his left side, long, even, pale on his coppery skin, and Jim wants to touch it. Scars fascinate him. It’s like they’re whispering, look at us Jim, you are not the only one alive and stupid, wounded.

\---

Sulu ruptured his spleen when he fell from the railings in a skate park on a sunny day like today. Jim wasn’t there that day; he was too busy with his research (as part of the school project, of course) under Annie’s skirt, that bitch from biology class. There was very little time left before the exams and he really needed help with biology. When he emerged from under her skirt and read the dozen text messages from Scotty and a couple from Spock he had to apologize and flee. Annie gave him an indifferent look and said, “See you later, Jim.”   
Annie smelled of watermelon gum and fabric softener; it was always squeaky clean in her room on the second floor of a small house sheathed with light gray siding. Her folks didn’t mind Jim, at least they never grumbled. Maybe they didn’t care. Maybe that’s why Annie was such a bitch.

Sulu lived in a foster home and his people actually hated Jim. But ultimately they just wanted a good life for the kid, and they were protective ‒ sometimes even too much. They didn’t like Jim, because everybody knew he’s trouble and you want to keep your kids out of trouble, right?

Jim slipped out of Annie’s house and bright sunlight burned his eyes. He pedaled his rusty bike with the stubbornness of a Tour de France participant, although he knew that Sulu was already all right. He just never knew how to move slowly.

In the hospital hallway, it smelled of disinfectant and vomit. Jim waited for Sulu’s foster parents to leave and entered the room. Sulu smiled sleepily at him. “You’re kinda late, I’m loopy and dozing off.”

“Biology Project. How are you?”

“I’m gay, I’m Asian, I live in Iowa, and I just had my torn spleen sutured. And my parents are only interested in whether I will be in shape by the beginning of next week to pass all the exams. I’m forbidden from skating. I’m high on painkillers and this is the best thing that I experienced in months. Honestly, I would not mind a meteorite crashing down on Earth right now and destroying basically everything.”

Jim smiles sunnily. “That’s the spirit!”

\---

Jim is sixteen and he has no other concerns but to stare into the blue sky. Somewhere up there a plane tears a cloud and drags a white stripe out of it. Jim stretches his whole body and winces in pain. Yesterday he jumped into a fight and his eyebrow got cut open; a doctor with alcohol-laden breath examined his face with a tired look. He gave him some ice for his swollen nose, refused to stitch his eyebrow so he’d have a reminder for future times, and sent him home. Then at home, Frank went ballistic on him for taking his Chevy without permission. And he’s going to add some more to it later today, because Jim skipped classes.

He didn’t go to school because the last thing he needs are his friends looking at him all concerned, again, and offering to spend a night in eager rivalry. 

He wants to be alone for some time. He needs to prepare for the upcoming algebra test.

He got into the fight to defend Scotty. After mature deliberation it was a mistake on Jim’s side – Scotty can defend himself damn well. Maybe he’s not the toughest guy, but his sharp tongue makes it up for him. He’s always one sassy word from getting punched, but he knows how to wrap it up. Jim doesn’t.

Scotty got bullied in school because of his accent, his height and the fact that he was the only guy in their school who had straight As in his math and science classes, but redid Junior year because he flunked English and history. It was beyond comprehension. He’s a certified genius. Maybe the reason was that he’d spend all his free time online, presumably purchasing supply parts on allegedly illegal websites for his demonic robots, or whatever he was building in his room.

Until he was thirteen, Scotty lived in Scotland; his parents died in a car accident. Then he moved to his aunt and uncle, they are good people in general, but both drink godlessly. However, they do it quietly, sitting on the couch in their dark living room, staring blankly at the TV, faces lit by fluorescent blue, and they never touch Scotty. Sometimes it seems to Jim that they, too, have long since died, but then one of them shouts, “Scotty, fetch me a beer from the fridge, will ya?!” Jim is not comfortable in their house, it’s damp and dark as a basement.

It’s going to be better tomorrow, he decides, and he can cope with algebra. And in case he can’t, Spock will help him. At first, of course, he will stare at him disapprovingly, give him a lecture that the individual must learn to find ways to overcome difficulties independently, and not rely on the help of other, more advanced individuals. But then he will help. Spock likes to be smarter than everyone, especially smarter than Jim. Jim finds a peculiar pleasure in driving him mad. 

Sulu, having studied the matter, said that Jim was most likely in love with Spock. Sulu also says Jim’s debauchery is simply an attempt to escape from himself and his issues. Sulu talks too much and doesn’t understand a damn thing.

Sometimes Jim wants to crumble Spock’s smooth face. Still, most of the time he kinda wants to kiss said smooth face. It’s confusing. Jim scratches his cheek; it hurts mercilessly. Maybe Sulu is right. What’s the point anyway. Jim knows that even though he sometimes pitches it too strong just to see Spock losing control they will stay friends nonetheless. And he doesn’t want to ruin their weird relationship. 

Spock is strange. He speaks strangely and his brain works in strange ways. Everything is complicated with him, he acts as if he never feels anything and thinks too much. Jim also thinks too much sometimes (“You think you’re smart?” Frank growls, “Get over here, you little shit!”) But Spock is another matter; he’s been playing chess since he was five years old; his level is God. Sometimes Jim thinks he’s a fucking alien. Spock is an unmelting iceberg in the middle of a sunlit cornfield.

The white stripe in the sky breaks off and then starts again. When Jim’s old enough he’ll become a pilot. Ideally, he would like to become a military pilot. If he can cope with engineering science – an astronaut. And not only because it’s the family business. He just wants to run as far as possible from this lazy boredom and these fields, and from Frank.

It’s not so easy to run away from Frank. He’s a cop. He always finds him.

Frank is not his father, so why the hell does he care so much what Jim does, who he is with, and how his grades are. Maybe he’s simply out to get him, because Jim’s mother left him. Well technically, she didn’t leave him. She was offered a job at Cape Canaveral that she couldn’t refuse. Kirks do not just look at the stars, they want to reach them, and they do it. She sends money to support Jim. Why she didn’t take Jim with her will forever remain a mystery. “It’s because you’re just a useless piece of shit,” Frank usually says.

His ribs are aching, but there’s even something comforting about it. If something hurts, then at least you’re still alive. Jim is not like Sulu, he likes to be alive.

Jim’s phone vibrates. “Where are you, moron? Did you get into something again? Annie asked about you.” It’s from Sulu. He knows everything about Jim, and Jim knows everything about him, even the things they don’t tell the other guys. 

Everyone thinks that Jim spends most of his time underage drinking, or chasing girls, or stealing cars, God knows what else. In fact, Jim spends most of his time staring at the sky or piloting a Cessna on the simulator.

\---

Friends shouldn’t fall for each other. However, friends must help each other in need, and Jim needs it very very much. He’s only nineteen and the world collapsed, and everyone died, and the stars are too far away now. They’re living in the moment between the tragic ending of a long drawn-out horror movie and the end credits. Sulu’s hand twitches on Jim’s thigh and they pull from each other.

“Undocking,” Jim says and rolls onto his back; they can’t afford being romantic. 

Sulu groans. “You’re an idiot,” he says. “We have to go, Spock’s gonna be angry. It wouldn’t be so bad if we actually found some food.”

“Fuck Spock.” 

“That is unlikely to happen,” Sulu offers his best Spock impression. Giving in to a sudden impulse, he strokes Jim’s cheek and Jim closes his eyes and swallows the lump in his throat. “Everything’s gonna be fine,” Sulu says, it’s a strange thing to hear from him.

Then, as usual, Sulu slumbers, and Jim looks up at the sky. Frank is gone, and so is his mother, most likely, and he’s never going to be an astronaut. But he still wants to. Those people on the ISS, they’re probably gone, too. Did they understand what happened? How long did they survive? Without communication with the Earth, without supplies? 

He saw Annie in Iowa City something like a year ago. Despite the sizable hole in her stomach she stood firmly on her feet. As usual, she gave him an indifferent look, and then she tried to bite off his head. Spock aimed calmly and her face exploded with black blood.

“Honestly, she always seemed a little weird to me,” Spock said and Jim really wanted to believe he caught a note of jealousy in his voice.

When Jim and Sulu return to the camp, Spock meets them with a steady, unblinking gaze.

“Any luck?” Sometimes he looks like a fledgling that has just fallen out of the nest. Seriously, he should forbid Sulu from touching his hair with scissors. His ideas of beauty are very abstract. Jim prefers to cut his hair himself.

“Oh we got so lucky,” Jim replies lightly. He throws the hare up to Scotty; it’s his turn to cook. So, they are twice as lucky, he’s a great cook.

“Don’t throw dead animals at me ever again, I beg you!”

\---

Jim and Chekov are making their way through the thickets and Jim is trying to choose the right moment to inform his friend that they’ve gone astray. Panic gradually takes him over. Chekov can’t stop puffing and sniffing; he is hopelessly sick with a cold. He should have stayed at the camp. 

“I heard that you and Sulu… you’re like… dating, right?” Chekov says suddenly, his voice is hoarse and Jim stops in his tracks. He carefully looks at his friend, whose cheeks are red as tomatoes. Chekov’s curls literally gleam in the light of the sun, making him look like an angel. Then he sniffs again.

“Who told you that?” Jim asks. Not that it’s a secret, of course. He and Sulu are the only ones from in their little group to suddenly appear with hickeys, big fucking deal. 

“Scotty. When you go hunting, he says that you are on a date.” Chekov isn’t looking at him as he speaks, burning a hole in the ground under his feet instead.

“Is that what he says?” Jim laughs. “He’s jealous because he can’t find a girlfriend.” That’s also understandable. The surviving girls are very selective in terms of partners, and Scotty, well he’s not Prince Charming. 

“Did you hear that?” Chekov whispers suddenly, and Jim freezes. He hears the rustling of leaves and moss under their feet. Then he hears a branch snap. And again. Then the forest comes to life like in bad fairytale.

“Oh shit,” he replies quietly and Chekov responds with a curse in Russian. Chekov taught Jim a huge list of Russian curses once because Jim thought they sound funny. Now he only remembered  _ блядь _ . But Chekov said something else. 

Jim listens carefully ‒ they’re coming from the right. After a little while, he sees them through the tangled branches and thorny bushes ‒ a quiet crowd, and there really are a lot of them, Jim can count at least a dozen. Suddenly, he can’t remember how many bullets he has. 

“Run! Stay close!” he shouts because now it’s useless to be quiet. Chekov responds with another explosion of Russian curses.

Jim runs in a certain direction prompted by some sort of sixth sense. Like birds, he still has a built-in compass, however, in order for it to work, he needs to be scared shitless. He feels pleasant warmth rushing through his stiff muscles, bitter taste on his lips, and some strange form of delight. They didn’t have to run from the Dead for almost a week, he was getting bored. He can’t stop now, otherwise he won’t be able to force himself to move again. And so he runs and does not look back; he hears loud hoarse breath behind his shoulder and hopes that it’s Pavel. Because the Dead don’t breathe, at least he thinks so. 

Why aren’t the Dead getting weaker and why are there still so many of them? At first, they assumed that over time, as people learned to protect themselves and when there was no food left for the Dead, they would gradually weaken and possibly go extinct. But that didn’t happen. Two and a half years have passed and yet, wherever they would go, they stumble upon the Infected, and they’re strong and hungry like never before. Spock suggested that they might even begin to evolve. That would be really unfortunate.

Jim speeds up to his possible limit, and then he runs even faster. Adrenaline is fun. Black trunks covered in acid green moss and bent branches flash before his eyes, and he barely manages to duck out of the way. He jumps over a creek that seems familiar and cries out joyfully ‒ they are on the right track. Now they still have to give the Dead a proper run around the forest. They can’t guide them to the camp. The plan is to get far away enough to get into a comfortable position and blow their heads off. Hopefully they won’t get lost again, hopefully they have enough bullets. 

At some point, he realizes that no one is chasing after him anymore. Like at all.

“Chekov?! Pavel?!”

\---

“What’s the point then?”

“The point is to stay alive, Jim.”

“Why, if we can’t even help our friend?!” Jim tries to keep quiet, though he doesn’t do it very well. The Dead are still somewhere in the forest, but Chekov is there, too. He is a smart guy, and despite his fragile appearance, he is very fast and agile and knows how to survive. If he managed to dodge the Riverside High School bullies during the school year, the army of the Dead was nothing to him. That’s how Jim comforts himself, and he really wants to believe that it’s true, but they all know that it doesn’t work like that. And Spock knows it better than anyone else.

They saw his parents last week. They joined the ranks of the Infected. And judging by the state of their bodies, it happened a long time ago. Spock stood there, rooted to the spot, and that time Jim had to shoot. He hated himself for doing it and for not finding the right words to comfort his friend. He should have at least said something like “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Now Spock stands there in front of him, so important, so fucking logical, and assures Jim that they need to get in the car and leave, because there’s no way they can help Chekov now. 

“So you think we should stay here and let them get us? Jim, we have to go now. You can decide for yourself, but not for Sulu and Scotty.” At his words Sulu and Scotty simultaneously take a step aside, they know better than to get in a dispute between Jim and Spock. 

“He’s out there somewhere, Spock, and I can’t just leave and forget that he ever existed!”

“I’m not talking about forgetting, Jim.”

“It’s because of your parents, isn’t it?” Jim hisses sardonically, and immediately realizes that he shouldn’t have said that. Sulu and Scotty turn away. He himself would have turned away from himself. Except once you let it drop, don’t stop. That’s what Frank would say, and even though he was the worst tutor or role model one could imagine, sometimes he would surprisingly deliver quite reasonable things. “I think you’re too upset to make decisions, Spock. You can’t think rationally. Let me make this decision for you – we’re staying, we’re looking for Chekov, and we’re going to find him because he’s there, he’s alive and he needs our help, then we get in the car and drive off into the sunset.”

Spock doesn’t even frown, not a single muscle in his face flinches. He could make millions in poker. Unfortunately, the apocalypse happened before he reached the legal age allowed to do so.

“Jim, we are wasting time. You know they won’t stop once they caught a trace.”

“You had to see them like that and then you didn’t even have the strength to shoot them. I did it.”

“Jim, we get in the car and we leave. Now. If you want, you can stay,” Spock says calmly. Jim knows that tone too well. It means the iceberg has cracked.

“Well, we’ll see about that.” Jim grabs his gun and he’s not even actually aiming as he fires and shots through the tires of their van.

“Are you out of your mind?! That’s our car!” Scotty yells, his voice switches to a shocked falsetto.

What a precise shot, Jim couldn’t be more proud of himself. It’s only that with the hissing air quickly leaving the tires his confidence is wearing thin as well. And, even as a chill of horror runs through him as he recognizes this time he really went too far, and that now, they most likely won’t be able to get out of this mess safely, he gathers his strength and calmly says, “Now let’s shoot the creeps and find Chekov.”

\---

Of course the Infected showed up eventually. For an hour they shot back and managed to put them down, every last one of them, and then they had to examine the bodies to make sure that Chekov was not among them. 

They spent hours looking for Chekov; Scotty was bitching the entire time, Spock remained his stoic calm self and Sulu shot Jim careful glances every now and then. In the end, they didn’t find him. Spock took Jim’s pistol and they refused to let him carry any kind of gun after, but Jim nicked one of Scotty’s when no one was looking.

The next morning, they set off in search again. With stubbornness worthy a better cause Spock pretended that Jim did not exist, and they had to split into pairs. So much for efficiency. Jim, of course, went with Sulu. 

When they were a safe distance away, Jim wanted nothing more than to hug Sulu, and maybe kiss his neck, or that Sulu hugged him. Then he would know that everything’s fine, he could finally turn his head off, and stop thinking, and silence the mantra of repeating “You are such an asshole, Jim” humming in the back of his mind. But he knew, he could feel it in the air, this time he managed to anger even Sulu. 

“You shouldn’t have done this,” Sulu said after a while, “Of all the shit you’ve ever pulled this is the dumbest.” Indeed it is, and Jim nods in agreement. “But you’re right, know that.”

“Spock will never forgive me.”

“Oh, Jim...”

Sulu takes his hand, but he doesn’t say that everything’s gonna be fine, he doesn’t speak again, and they silently wander through the forest.

“Guys, guys ...” The voice is hardly louder than the rustle of moss beneath their feet.

“Chekov! Thank fuck, you’re alive! We’ve been searching high and low, dude.” Jim can’t force himself to smile although it’s like a weight has been lifted, a whole damn world really, when they help their friend to get out of his shelter – the roots of a huge fallen tree. His arm is broken and Jim realizes with horror that he has no idea what to do about it. 

\---

Now, in the gray morning, Jim thought he heard the distant sound of gravel crunching, but then decides he dreamt it. There’s his backpack, his thermos with cold coffee and a bag of roasted nuts. But Sulu, Scotty, Chekov and Spock are nowhere to be seen. After a few hours of searching he concludes this must be just another nightmare he failed to wake up from. Then a few more hours later he assumes they were never with him in the first place. That he survived but went mad, and that he, like in some movie, stumbled around the ruined world for several years, chatting to fictional friends. Like a fusion bomb a terrible migraine explodes in his head.

By evening, he’s finally convinced that they're gone. In the whole town it’s only him and the echo of his steps. He can’t believe Spock mustered up the courage to get rid of him like he was a dead weight. Apparently, in his impenetrable mind Jim finally grew to be a problem.

Fine, Jim thinks, it’s fine, he can take care of himself.

\---

About three weeks later Jim is everything but fine.

_ There’s something wrong with the place, Jim can feel it in his aching bones. They said to keep away from stores and buildings in general, but they also said they’d never leave him and that was a big fucking lie. There are still lights on in this place, chances to find something in a place with the lights still on tend to get smaller and smaller as time goes on. But he’s so damn hungry... _


End file.
